Leaping Hearts(31)
Author: J.R. Ward

When she was satisfied that the stallion was under some control, she decided to take a look at the ring. “I’m going to walk the course. Want anything?”

“I don’t think they’re sellin’ what I need,” Chester said as the stallion threw his head again. “An anchor to hang off this one’s forehead would be great. Last longer than m’ arm, too.”

“I think we’re out of luck on marine supplies but maybe I can scare up some other kind of deadweight.”

Would give me a use for Peter, if I run into him, she thought with humor.

Heading to the show ring, she wanted to find Devlin, get close to the billboard to check the order of riders, and study the jump course. Already, competitors and trainers were crowded around the board so she had to stand on the tips of her toes to see over all the heads. She was arching forward when she felt someone put an arm around her waist.

“And so you are back with the bronco.”

The French accent cut through her nerves like a chain saw. She turned to face Philippe Marceau and took a step away at the same time.

“Ah, but how the morning light suits you.” His wide, placating smile showed a lot of dental work.

She acknowledged him with a reserved nod and found it amazing how something so melodious as that accent could be so grating coming out of his mouth. Was it all the caps on his teeth?

“I see you come after me in order,” he was saying while striking a pose. His riding clothes were conventional and top quality but he was wearing a pair of extreme wraparound sunglasses. “You are a woman of great courage to bring that beast into the ring. But then, I hear you have help, non?”

“I have a trainer,” she confirmed while searching for an escape route.

Standing close to this man is like being stuck in an elevator, she decided. You’d bargain with God to get free.

“But not just any trainer. Not only does this woman tackle a stallion no one else can seem to tame but she resurrects the dead, n’est-ce pas? You have done wonders to stir McCloud’s blood again, or so I have heard.”

A.J.’s mouth dropped open at the insinuation. “What are you talking about?”

“Surely you jest. The news is all around.” He gesticulated with a limp wrist. “Although I must say, you are faithless to leave your family in favor of a man who is not your husband. No matter how good you find his services.”

Her vision narrowed on the man’s jugular. “Why, you little—”

Devlin appeared at her side. “A.J.! Time to go pace off the course.”

“Ah,” Philippe said grandly. “And here is your good teacher, the man you gave up so much for. Myself, I could not imagine leaving my family for someone else’s stable, but I am French and we are known for our loyalty. Then again, I also don’t need the particular kind of instruction this McCloud offers.”

A.J. could sense her face turning brick red and felt like a boxer winding up for a punch.

“Come on,” Devlin said.

“Yes, run along, you two. I imagine there is much you must do to each other.”

That did it. She lost it.

“Why, you tar-mouthed gossip hound—”

She was itching to go further but Devlin put a firm hand on her arm and began to lead her away.

“And speaking of gossip,” the Frenchman called out as they left, “you would do well to keep your ear to the floor. I myself am going to make an announcement soon.”

“That’s ‘ear to the ground,’ you—”

“Enough,” Devlin hissed, dragging her off.

When they were out of range from the crowd, A.J. whirled on him, eyes flashing turquoise.

“How could you let him go on like that? You didn’t give me the chance to defend us!”

Devlin said nothing, which infuriated her further. He just stood there, staring at her calmly. Didn’t he have any pride?

“I mean, come on! Marceau made insinuations that were insane and you hauled me off before I could respond.”

When that didn’t get any reaction, she frowned.

“Hello?”

“You finished?” he asked. “Or do you want to give him more of what he’s after?”

A.J. looked confused.

He said, “Tell me what you’re thinking about right now.”

“How I’d like to crown him with a bag of feed.”

“Anything else?”

“How wrong he is about us. How ridiculous it is for that man to talk about loyalty after he’s dated so many women simultaneously, his bed needs a waiting room.”

“Good. Now tell me why we’re here.”

She looked at him like he’d gone daft. “To compete.”

“Right. And you’re blowing all your energy and concentration on Philippe Marceau about thirty minutes before you have to go into the ring.”

“But the things he said—”

“Were exactly what he knew would get you rattled.”

She shook her head. “But why would he bother?”

“Because he sees you’re becoming a threat.”

“I doubt that. Sabbath is worse than an unknown and I’m not the seasoned competitor Marceau is. He doesn’t have anything to worry about.”

“You’re closing in on him faster than you think. As rough as he is, Sabbath could eat up the ground under any of Marceau’s mounts and you have more natural talent than he could ever hope to train for.”

“I can’t believe he’s threatened by me. That performance is just his personality, not strategy.”

“Don’t bet on it. He’s got great instincts when it comes to human nature and he uses them to his advantage. Always.”

A.J. opened her mouth but he cut her off.

“You’ve been in some competitions but you obviously haven’t had enough experience with the kind of head games people like Marceau play. As you rise up through the ranks, you better get ready for it. Competition has a way of souring people and, in Marceau’s case, he was pretty damn close to rotten before he started.”

A.J. thought about it and began to see Devlin’s point. She saw how she’d played into Marceau’s hands and started to feel like a fool.

Watching her deflate, Devlin couldn’t stop himself from reaching up and tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear. It was the first time he’d touched her since the night they’d kissed. His hand lingered on her cheek.

“The best technical rider doesn’t always win,” he said gently. “And Marceau’s star has risen a lot higher because of it. He’s great at unsettling competitors. I’ve seen him do it before.”